


Mr. Allen

by PhantomWriter



Series: It's a weird start (but we'll be fine) [8]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barry Allen in glasses, Children, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Oliver Queen's Parenting, Teacher Barry Allen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriter/pseuds/PhantomWriter
Summary: Oliver keeps hearing about Mr. Allen, William's teacher. Though he never met the man before, he thinks Mr. Allen is subtly helping him get closer to his son.He's surprised to find out Mr. Allen is more adorable in person than William makes him to be.





	Mr. Allen

**Author's Note:**

> teacher Barry + Barry with eyeglasses ftw

Oliver leans against the doorway, fondly watching the unsuspecting kid as the latter counts with his fingers and writing down his answer on his notebook.

It’s his usual twice-a-week visit to the Clayton residence. He briefly greeted Samantha downstairs who’s busy preparing dinner, and then he directly went to his son who appears to be occupied with his homework.

When he thinks William is finally done, he knocks lightly at the open door. “Hey there, genius.” He grins when the boy looks at him in surprise.

“Oliver!” William exclaims, smiling up to Oliver toothily. “I thought you said you’ll come on Friday?”

“I have free time,” Oliver says as he ruffles lightly the boy’s hair and sits on the floor littered with some of William’s action figures. “It means I get to see you thrice this week. How’s that sound?”

“Cool,” William says with a beam, clearing a space on the floor to sit opposite the older man. “You want to play? I got a new character.” He hands Oliver a brand new toy. “It’s the Green Arrow. Mom said he’s from your city,” he tells him, leaning closer. “Have you seen him?”

Oliver chuckles lightly at the toy-version of him—he notes the leather being black instead of dark green, and the face underneath the hood smudged with some dark paint to resemble the mask. “Not yet. I’ve seen the news though.” He wiggles the figure questioningly to the kid. “You like him?”

William nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. He’s awesome too, you know?” Oliver smiles privately when his son mimics his way of drawing the bow and firing arrows. “He’s my favorite now.”

“I thought you like the Flash?”

“They’re _both_ my favorite,” William corrects himself. “They’re both awesome.” He’s holding his Flash action figure when he perks up, as if remembering something. “Even my teacher likes him,” he puts in, playing with the toy’s legs and setting them in a running stance. “He even knows a lot about the Flash.”

“Everybody in Central likes him,” Oliver says. “Adults and kids alike.” While it’s true that he never encountered the speedster before, he doesn’t have to just to know the Flash is well received in his home city—a total opposite of the Green Arrow. His guess is their difference on bringing down justice; the Flash’s morals aren’t questionable compared to the Star City's vigilante.

William agrees to what he said, adding, “But Mr. Allen knows _a_ _lot_ and he even shares them with me. Like the Flash’s favorite color. He said he doesn’t really like red, but it stands out and complements the lightning. Oh, and you know, he even explained to me how Flash can run real fast, but it’s all science-y and has many numbers so I can’t tell them the way he did.”

Oliver humors him by nodding along, listening and not interrupting William’s retelling of Flash’s achievements of taking down the other metahumans of Central City—all of which Oliver has been aware of as Felicity keeps insisting on tuning in to the news of fellow vigilantes on neighboring cities (he secretly thinks she’s a fan of the Flash, and he won’t be surprised to find out if ever).

“Speaking of Mr. Allen.” William pauses, getting up to pull out a test paper from his school bag. It’s the mastery examination in general science, a subject that the boy had been having difficulty before. “He gave me an A.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice when he told him.

“This is…” He turns every leaf of the three pages test paper, eyebrows rising, impressed at the consecutive check marks and less than ten mistakes. “Wow. This is amazing, William,” Oliver mutters breathlessly. It might be a simple science exam, but he knows now the feeling of a proud parent. “Have you shown this to your mom?”

“Not yet. Later at dinner. Don’t spoil it, okay?”

There’s something warm inside Oliver when he finds out he’s the first to know. “I won’t. Promise.”

He might not be able to have William calling him his Dad but the small hug he received then meant the world to Oliver.

This is enough.

He gets invited to dinner due to William’s insistence that Samantha can’t refuse. She apologized to him, for taking his time which Oliver dismissed, relieved that it’s not because she doesn’t want him around.

The dinner is a simple meal of pasta, nothing fancy and yet Oliver feels the evening is precious as it’s his first dinner with William, and hopefully more will follow. He watches him hand the paper to Samantha who shares the same reaction as Oliver’s, promising the boy a treat tomorrow for doing a good job.

“Told you so. Extra hours with Mr. Allen paid off.” She gives William a smirk.

The kid guiltily looks away. “I didn’t say Mr. Allen is boring. It’s the subject and the additional time studying it,” he retorts.

“His teacher is tutoring him?” Oliver asks.

William excuses himself from the table to put up his test paper on the fridge, much to his and Samantha’s amusement.

She nods. “It’s an arrangement of sorts. He told me last PT meeting about his concern on William’s math and science. And I told him that I don’t have much time to teach him myself. And he agreed to do it himself an hour or two after classes.” She sets down her fork. “The time is convenient since I can pick up William right after I come from work and the school is on the way back.”

“That’s good,” was Oliver’s clipped reply. “And that’s considerate of him.”

“He is. Very hands-on too. Even the other parents like him. Mr. Allen also told me about language and reading comprehension being William’s strong suit and encourages him to read more so he can expand his vocabulary.”

“Language?” Well, that surely isn’t from Oliver. “How about I bring him books next time? If that’s okay.”

“Feel free to. Just bring the one with lots of pictures. I’m sure he’ll like it.”

William comes back, giddier when he tells them that his math results will follow and will be posted too if it’s an A. He pouts when Oliver teasingly says that he will be covering the refrigerator's door with test papers in no time and that will be troublesome so he’ll bring him a pin board next time, on condition that William won’t be hiding any papers with low or failed marks.

When his son bid him a sleepy good night before he leaves, Oliver has this small smile that he can’t remove from his face.

* * *

The following week Oliver drops by the place, he observed that William looks as if he’s debating whether to tell him something or not.

“Is there a problem, William?” Oliver asks gently.

“Nothing. It’s just that… never mind.”

The older man frowns when the kid refuses to meet his eyes. He decides to not push it. William is likely to talk that way.

He’s not wrong.

“Um, it’s just that it’s a Bring Your Dad to School Day yesterday but I didn’t tell mom that.”

He had no idea. “Why didn’t you?”

“I don't think mom likes to talk about my dad. She gets hurt when I ask her. I don’t like that.”

Oliver sighs, motioning for William to come beside him. “You could’ve asked me.” His sad smile went unnoticed when he circled an arm to the boy’s shoulders—a gesture of affection without having William suspect on their real relationship.

“I didn’t think you’ll want to,” the boy admits.

“At least you know now that I’ll be willing to. Ask me next time.” Oliver is secretly glad when William leans on the semi-embrace.

“I’m the only one in class who don’t have one.” Oliver bites the inside of his cheek. “But it’s okay. It didn’t suck because Mr. Allen stayed with me. I sat beside him while we listened to my classmates and their dads.”

William tells him more about the fathers of the other students and then adds a bit more about his teacher, how the man told William that he used to be like him too because his father was also away and he couldn’t bring him to school as well. But young Mr. Allen had a kind teacher. In turn, Mr. Allen becomes that kind of teacher who doesn’t want anybody to feel left out.

Oliver hasn’t even met the person, but he’s already impressed.

“Mr. Allen said school is our second house, so he can technically be our dad there. But he prefers to be an older brother. Or uncle.”

“He sounds nice,” Oliver comments, absentmindedly running his hands on William’s hair.

The kid was silent for a while that he thought he’s already asleep until William looks at Oliver, a question ready to slip past his lips. “Can I ask you something?” Oliver simply tilts his head, gesturing for the boy to continue. “We have an upcoming project of family tree. Can I include you there?” He puffs his cheeks, looking down. “I mean, I know you’re not my dad. But you seem one to me. I won’t even ask for your picture, but I’d like to mention you to class. That is, if it’s okay?”

Oliver regards the boy, feelings mixed at William being clueless and making Oliver feel special. He opted for a sincere smile, but there’s a pang of regret in him that he can’t will away. “It’s more than okay.”

William's happy face (and assurance of he won’t be mentioning Oliver’s family name because _mom said many people know you_ ) makes up for what Oliver is feeling. Though he wonders if this will be the closest he can get. It’s so easy to just tell the kid the truth, but being with William isn’t something he’s willing to exchange for no matter what.

Besides, with Samantha and William having no idea about his double life, this is the safest course of action.

Involving them is the last of his priorities.

* * *

“There’s another kid who joined the tutoring,” William tells him the next Wednesday Oliver is around. “It’s a girl. She’s a transferee so she has to catch up to us.”

Oliver never heard him talk about any of his classmates except for his friends who happen to be in the same neighborhood. Or never about a girl for that matter.

“Her name is Rachel,” William adds.

The older man hums, peeking over the kid’s shoulder to see what he’s coloring. “So how’s Rachel? Is she your friend?”

“We don’t talk. She always sings _Row, Row_ , _Your Boat_. It’s annoying.” As if to prove a point, he scratched the color on the paper a bit harder that there’s a dark streak of blue in the drawing.

Oliver is amused by his reaction. “Is she cute then?”

William turns to him with a scowl, but with a blush. “N-No. She’s… not cute,” he murmurs.

He wants to tease his son about that weak argument. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” the boy answers just as fast. “I mean, she’s always asking for Mr. Allen’s help in reading even if it’s too easy. And she always gets mistakes in spelling.”

“She’s a transferee. She’s probably adjusting.”

William huffs. “But still, it’s not fair,” he exclaims, crossing his arms. “She always has Mr. Allen’s attention. Before she came, we always talk about the Flash. Now we don’t because he’s helping her read some fairytale stories with princesses.”

 _Oh, so that's how it is._ Not that Oliver is surprised; William and his classmates seem to be rather fond of their teacher. And Mr. Allen sounds like a pleasant man that it’s no wonder.

“It’s because Rachel needs help on a subject she isn’t good at. She’s like you, but you started extra hours with Mr. Allen way ahead of her so you’re doing fine now. Unlike her. And she’s also a transferee. It must be difficult,” he says gently, trying to make the kid understand. “How about you help her? Even a little. Your mom said that you’re good at reading. You can even share your books with her.”

William is quiet, but Oliver can see he’s considering the idea. “Mr. Allen might have some more time that way,” he concedes. “Alright. I’ll bring _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_ next time.” He scrunches his face as if disgusted. “That one doesn’t have a princess.”

* * *

Whoever this Mr. Allen is, Oliver is glad he’s William’s teacher.

He didn’t realize it before but since then, he’s closer to his son. Admittedly, Oliver’s a little envious of the man at first—for being the one sitting beside William on that Bring Your Dad to School Day, having common grounds with the boy in terms of their favorite cartoons and Central City’s Flash, and most of all being able to spend a lot of time with William.

But then there are the small things. Like how William told him Mr. Allen said he should include Oliver in his family drawing of stick figures and crayons; or when Mr. Allen lends William a book that the boy wants to read but the words difficult to understand, and then the teacher suggesting to William to have Oliver read it to him if his mother can’t have the time to.

The little jealousy Oliver has, though not uncalled for, is unfounded since from Mr. Allen’s own side, he’s making subtle efforts to bring William and his father closer. And when Oliver analyses their teacher-student bond, it’s more like William having an older brother instead of somebody filling Oliver’s shoes. He understands now that Mr. Allen is simply an adult with the heart of a child.

It’s odd, but Oliver thinks he found a friend in Mr. Allen who he never saw in person.

There’s a part of him that’s curious to know him, wondering if they both share the same predicament that makes the latter seem so good at handling children and knows a lot about the kind of relationship William and Oliver has.

He appreciates his ways, and to be honest, Oliver doesn’t know how to repay him at least.

Especially when he receives a late Father’s Day card from William that day.

There’s a short message of being an awesome father figure to William, written in the kid’s handwriting. Oliver is rarely sentimental but he’s sure that he’ll be keeping this simple white card with sequins and stars with gold glitters.

“Mr. Allen helped me with the glitters,” the kid pitches in, watching for Oliver’s reaction. “Do you like it?”

“Of course, William.” Oliver’s lips curl into a fond smile when the boy’s face lights up. “Thank you.”

“Sorry if it’s a bit late. Mr. Allen asked me what we did on Father’s Day and I told him you’re not around that day. He suggested that we make a card for you yesterday. And, oh, Rachel made one for her dad too. Hers has pink stickers and lots of hearts and some ponies.”

William mentions more about Rachel, in which Oliver lightly comments that they seem to be close, though he didn’t push it when his son is red in the face and puts on a knowing look instead.

When the boy gushes again about Mr. Allen, Oliver can’t help noting that it’s another intervention of the teacher.

Once again, he owes him one.

* * *

He’s way earlier in his next visit after Samantha asked him to pick William up from school as she will be getting out of work later than usual.

Oliver drops by Jitters, a coffee shop near the school, and finds himself ordering two cups of takeout coffees.

There’s a female barista who’s looking at him as if she has seen him before but didn’t say anything else other than ask for his order. He gets himself an espresso and struggles for the other one.

“Just plain black, I suppose,” he tells her unsurely.

“No sugar?” He shakes his head, also refusing the creamer.

Oliver drums his fingers against the counter, sighing. “Is that the kind of coffee teachers drink?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, is bitter coffee the kind of thing a teacher drinks?”

She seems taken aback by the random question. “No, not all of them actually.”

“What’s their usual?”

Thankfully, there’s no queue that time. “Well, I can’t give you any specific one.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Though I can recommend you the one my brother drinks. He’s a teacher too, and it’s the same order whether he’s grading papers or just a normal day. Iced Latte, if that’s alright to you, Mr. Queen?”

She hands him two cups of varying temperature. He makes sure to give her a large tip for her input. With a thank you, he exits the establishment and goes to fetch William.

He’s directed to the last classroom to his left on the ground floor of the school. Through the glass of the door, he can see William and another girl which he guesses is Rachel hunch on their tables and writing something down.

Mr. Allen is doing a simple math computation at the chalkboard, his back facing Oliver. He’s a tall brunet, but not hovering (roughly the same height as Oliver). _Lanky_ , he observes. And he appears to be younger than he initially thought.

When Mr. Allen finally turns around to face the kids, Oliver is taken aback by the sunny smile with uplifted cheekbones against the frame of his eyeglasses that he gets treated to.

And he might have stared for a while that had Mr. Allen look up to his direction and they caught each other’s eyes that Oliver dumbly breaks the contact, leaning against the wall with two coffees at hand, the iced one wetting his palm with moist.

Few minutes later, the classroom door opens and Mr. Allen comes out.

“Sir? We’re just wrapping up some lesson, if you don’t mind waiting…” Mr. Allen trails off, frowning slightly with a flicker of recognition in his eyes. They’re a pair of impressive green behind round glasses, Oliver absently thinks. There’s a smudge of blue chalk on one of his cheeks that Mr. Allen doesn’t seem to be aware of, covering the light freckles there. “Mr. Queen?”

Oliver doesn’t know if that’s for snapping him out of his reverie or Mr. Allen is unsure if he’s the Star City billionaire. “Yes?”

“Wait. You’re William’s dad, Oliver?”

“I am.”

It’s funny because despite not meeting him before, Oliver can already read his expression as an assurance of keeping the information to himself. “I’m Barry Allen. I handle the grade 4 class.”

“I’ve heard about you from William,” Oliver says. “All of them good so—here.” He hands the younger man the iced coffee, slightly hesitant to accept. “Take it, Mr. Allen. It’s for everything you did for William. They mean a lot.”

He smiles gratefully. “I’m just doing my job. But thanks for this. And you can call me Barry.”

“Call me Oliver then.” He briefly checks the door. “About what I said. I didn’t simply mean being his teacher. Honestly, you helped me bond with William more and have a relationship with my son that I only dreamed having at first,” he says truthfully, keeping his voice in low volume.

“What do you… oh. You’re his real father then,” Barry says almost breathlessly at the revelation.

“It’s difficult to not tell him, but I made a promise to his mother. Maybe one day, when everything’s alright,” Oliver tells him; and even he is surprised with himself for spilling such private thoughts. There must be something special with Barry that made him do so.

“I hope you didn’t feel obligated to share that to me. I would have understood that it’s complicated. Though I’m glad that you’re working on the two of you.” A hint of sadness flashes for a moment in his face.

“No small thanks to you.”

Barry looks with amusement at the coffee cup he’s holding and peeking inside. “Iced latte? This is exactly my favorite.”

Oliver can easily say it’s a lucky guess but he’d be lying.

“You didn’t have to bother, you know?”

“But I’d like to.”

By some voluntary muscle movement, Oliver’s thumb found itself wiping away the chalk off Barry’s face.

They’re both saved from the awkward silence when William and Rachel exit the classroom, looking for their teacher.

The boy happily points out to Oliver when he sees him, turning to Rachel and saying _he’s the one I’m telling you about_.

The girl looks up to Oliver with awe and commenting to William that _your dad is tall like Mr. Allen_.

Barry shakes his head at the exchange, perhaps secretly amazed as well at how the two children became fast friends.

“You met Mr. Allen,” William says to Oliver once he’s on his side, school bag strapped on his back.

Oliver’s eyes are on Barry when he nods in agreement. He turns to the latter fully, offering a hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Allen.”

The teacher smiles warmly, albeit shyly. “A pleasure as well, Mr. Queen.”

When his warm palm touches Barry’s cold ones, there’s a light spark that they both feel.

Oliver is confident that this will not be their last encounter.

* * *

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> lol. good thing Oliver didn't mistake Barry as some creepy old dude who likes kids.
> 
> thanks for the read.


End file.
